


Clint's Hugging Service

by pherryt



Series: Clint's Birthday Bash [4]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Anniversary of Battle of New York, Canon Divergent, Found Family, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, Learning to be Loved, M/M, Ships - it's Light winterhawk and background Stony, Shoulder massages, Wiping Away Tears, back cracking hugs, bookworm bucky, no civil war, post winter soldier, recovering bucky, supportive team, touch starved, touch starved bucky, tower fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26041201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: Bucky really, really wants to know what a Clint Barton hug feels like. Everyone else seems toswearby them.
Relationships: Stony, Winterhawk
Series: Clint's Birthday Bash [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852870
Comments: 44
Kudos: 274
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020, Clint Barton Birthday Bash, Clintucky Fried Bunnies, Kisses Bingo, Winterhawk Bingo Round Two





	Clint's Hugging Service

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreyishBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyishBlue/gifts).



> An accidental Plot bunny via the Clintucky Fried Chicken Server and Greyishblue - yet again!  
> Something something, Clint who gives great back cracking hugs and he doesn't know thats why people want his hugs. Touch starved bucky with tons of tension in his body
> 
> And then it derailed. As these things do.
> 
> Managed to hit 4 squares from different bingos with this one
> 
>   * KISSES BINGO: Square O4 - Wiping Away Tears
>   * BUCKY BINGO: Square B3 - Learning to be Loved (Yes - the whole fic basically)
>   * CLINT BARTON BIRTHDAY BASH BINGO: Square 1 - Surprise (but not, like, the way they were expecting so. SURPRISE!)
>   * WINTERHAWK BINGO: Square G1 - Bookworm Bucky
> 

> 
> This fill gives me 2 bingos - one for the Birthday Bash and one for the Bucky Barnes one! :D  
> This is my second fill for kisses and my first for winterhawk :D
> 
> Not Beta'd. Shift key is broken so... I THINK I caught everything (which means I probably didn't)

Bucky had been at the tower for several months now and one thing was abundantly clear.

The Avengers, one and all, were free and easy with touching - at least, amongst themselves. And really, that was the important bit. That they had people they could trust to be that close and comfortable with, right? It was something he regarded with acute longing and absolute jealousy. He wanted that, their easy camaraderie and casual touches,  _ so  _ bad… but every time he tried to convince himself it was okay to take part, his skin would crawl, his stomach would twist and he’d start breathing far too fast and then Steve would be at his side, asking him if he was all right and - 

And it was too much.

But he was working on it.

He started by watching, observing the types of touches each of them gave each other, and what each Avenger sought for themselves most often, and wondered what he could offer in exchange for his own.

Natasha gave the best head scritches, and liked putting her feet in laps - any lap would do - but only a select few could go near  _ her _ head (Clint was one of them). 

Tony was skittish with anyone outside their group and a few others, but loved to drape himself over anyone that stayed still long enough. Most of the time,  anyway. Sometimes, he wouldn’t hold back even if they  _ were  _ moving.  (Bucky had a very vivid memory of Steve walking around the tower wearing Stark as a backpack. Clint had joked that it was the Starkpack. Nat had rolled her eyes, but Bucky had seen the amusement hidden in them). 

Sam gave really swell foot massages - so Bucky heard - but Bucky hadn’t quite figured out what Sam wanted yet. It seemed to change by the day. Bruce was quiet, content to share the couch and read to someone, most often with their heads on his shoulder.

Thor hadn’t been around often enough for Bucky to observe with any regularity, but he was sure he’d figure him out too. Pepper liked her hair brushed or played with, while Rhodey cuddled with anyone who wanted it.

Steve and Clint, Bucky had noticed, were most often in demand for their hugs. And the opinions for who had the  _ best  _ hug, was often under contention.

Bruce and Pepper liked Steve’s hugs the best, Rhodey had no opinion, Nat and Sam both swore by Clint’s and Tony...

“I’m dating Steve, so I'm obligated to say that he gives the best hugs,” Tony said. “But uh, Clint can get that one spot in my back I can  _ never  _ quite reach.” Tony looked dreamily up at the ceiling as he rubbed at the small of his back. Bucky blinked at the sudden information, uncertain how to take it. That… as a reason for hugging… had not been expected.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, Steve’s hugs are fucking fantastic. Almost orgasmic, even -”

Bucky held back the wince and managed to drawl out, “That’s probaby the sex, Tony.”

Tony smirked, completely unabashed. “But he’s too afraid to use his strength. He thinks he’s gonna break me, and puh-lease, I am  _ not  _ that breakable, super soldier or no,” Tony insisted. “But what I’m saying is that their hugs are horses of a different color. Apples and oranges.”

So Bucky watched some more and saw what Tony meant. Steve had a strong, warm hug - hell, Bucky had experienced it himself - but it became obvious he held himself back more around the more…  _ breakable _ members of the team, as Tony had put it. Bucky got that, but he also thought Steve should better trust his teammates to know how much they could handle. He didn’t hold back this much while sparring, though he still did hold back at least a little, and Bucky had told Steve more than once that he was doing the team a disservice by pulling his punches.

_ Captain America _ , of course, didn’t listen to him, so why should Bucky be surprised that Steve’s hugs weren’t as smotheringly strong for the others as they were for him? Or for Thor?

(Thor, he thought,  _ might  _ have them  _ all  _ beat for best hugs, but he wasn’t around often enough to give them).

In addition to the back cracking hugs that Clint gave, Bucky saw that Clint was the handsiest of the bunch. He didn’t exactly drape himself over people, not the way Tony did, but rather, he tended to lean into them or on them, or prop his chin over their shoulder. Bucky was always reminded of how much  _ taller  _ than most of the rest of the team Clint was whenever he did that. 

Well, except Thor.

Clint would trail a hand across shoulders as he passed someone and give them a squeeze. And Bucky had seen Nat or Tony or even Steve pause whatever they were doing, their eyes closing on a hum. Sometimes that squeeze turned into more, into shoulder massages and whenever Bucky’s shoulders burned, he  _ longed  _ for Clint to turn to him. He wanted to feel those apparently talented fingers on the knots of his shoulders and - 

Bucky blushed and hoped nobody saw it.

And that was something  _ else  _ he’d noticed since coming to the tower. Everyone had been welcoming (even Tony, though it had been hard for both of them), had accepted him into their space and their rituals even if he wasn’t quite included in on some aspects of those just yet.

Like Movie Night.

Movie Nights were great. He just wished he could get  _ closer  _ to everyone else than he was. But he was improving. Maybe by next month he’d make it to the couch.

All in all, they’d been great. Better than he deserved. All of them. Welcoming, including - but respecting his space at the same time, letting him dictate touching and proximity. Which made him long for more even harder than he already did, from all of them, because while part of him still shied away, he  _ trusted  _ them more and more each day  _ because  _ they respected his space so greatly.

But it was Clint who kept catching his eye. Clint who had Bucky’s focus. Clint whose touches Bucky longed for the most.

And it was Clint who made Bucky nearly swallow his tongue  in surprise when he caught Clint stretching in the common room.

He made a little strangled noise and nearly backed into Sam in his poor attempt to get away before he was caught. Hard to do when you can’t take your eyes off someone.

Bumping shoulders into Sam, Bucky quickly sidestepped away from him, feeling the residual heat of Sam’s shoulder as it faded. He wanted to lean back in, like he’d seen everyone else doing, but Bucky couldn’t take another step.

Sam didn’t say anything or pursue - as usual, all of them respected his space, giving Bucky ample opportunity to come in if he wanted but never forcing the issue. Sometimes he wished they would. 

But then, if they did, he wouldn’t trust them as much, would he? He wouldn’t  _ want  _ it as bad as he did.

“Yeah, he’s something, right?” Sam asked, nodding at Clint as he moved gracefully from one stretching pose to another. He held out a hand and Bucky blinked at it a moment before accepting the mug Sam was offering. “Ever spar with him?”

Bucky shook his head, taking a sip and looking back at Clint and then away, hurriedly. He hadn’t sparred with anyone yet, too afraid to. Outside of all the touching that came with that, he was afraid of what his instincts would call for.

“Yeah, you want a powerhouse, you go with Cap. He’s scrappy and quick to adapt, a little reckless, but a natural leader. He sees the big picture, he sees us and he makes it work,” Sam went on. “Nat, now, she’s small and quick and people always underestimate her. She’s elegant, but efficient and deadly. A hypnotizing sight, for sure.”

All of this, Bucky could agree with, having fought both of them before and watched many of the training practices since. He was also sure that Sam was sweet on Nat.

“Clint, on the other hand, he’s unorthodox. At his size, you expect him to go for power, but he’s almost as quick as Nat and bendier than a man his size has any right to be. Clint has incorporated so many fighting styles,  _ he _ doesn’t even know what he’s going to use - or what it was from if you ask him later,” Sam snorted and shook his head. “But best of all - Nat and Steve take it too seriously. Hawkeye’s just  _ fun.  _ And not in the annoying way like Tony is sometimes.”

Bucky could agree with that too, but somehow, he’d missed the part of their training sessions where Clint was bendy as fuck.

It was… doing things to him.

“I… gotta go. Thanks for the coffee,” Bucky blurted, before turning and beating a strategic retreat.

Clint wasn’t just aesthetically pleasing, he was also a good man. And not in the same way  _ Steve  _ was a good man, though Bucky couldn’t quite put his finger on the difference. He’d need to watch some more.

Well… that was okay with him. As long as he didn’t get caught. Thankfully, he had many opportunities. Clint never hesitated to include Bucky in on something if someone else forgot to,  not that that happened all that often, but it was nice that Clint was watching out for him like that . Clint seemed to always be there in the middle of the night when Bucky’s nightmares kept him awake, always ready with far too insightful advice, advice that sounded like it came from experience.

It had been Clint who first suggested the long, hot soaks in the ginormous tubs Tony had installed in each suite, quietly noting how tense Bucky’s shoulders were. And it  _ did  _ help. Some.

Bucky inched his hard backed chair a little closer to the couch come movie night, and if the side of the couch he was closest to had Clint on it, he didn’t think anyone but him had noticed. He was proud of himself when he managed to bring his chair close to the couch - close enough to lean on the arm of it - though it took a few more nights to pull that part off.

But he did. Progress.

“You’re doing great,” Clint said, grinning at Bucky after the rest had dispersed for bed. The two of them were making their way to the kitchen, neither of them quite ready for bed. “I know it’s hard, but you’re getting there and if you aren’t you really should be proud.”

“I shouldn’t be this afraid,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “It’s so… frustrating. To be scared of something you want…”

“Hey, really, you’re doing fantastic. I know it’s frustrating. We’ve all been there to some extent.”

Bucky made a noise of disbelief and Clint raised his hand. “Scouts honor! The Avengers were  _ not  _ the touchy feely group you have come to know and love when we first accepted Tony’s invitation to live here.”

“Were you ever really a scout?” Bucky drawled, hoping to hide the blush when Clint said love, because that felt like it was hitting far too close to home for Bucky’s comfort.

“Nah, ya got me there,” Clint said around a laugh. “Too busy being a carnie brat to bother with anything like that.”

“Carnie? You grew up in a carnival?” Bucky asked, stunned.

“Technically, a circus. Me and my brother ran away to join it when were kids, stuck in the foster system before that. It had it’s pros and cons,” he said, a shadow briefly passing over his face and dimming that gorgeous smile.

“That why you’re so flexible?”

Clint laughed. “Oh yeah, between the aerialists and the contortionists, they had  _ that  _ covered. Taught me a bunch of their tricks and even some of their best stretches.” He gave Bucky a wicked little grin. “Didn’t know you’d been watching. Guess it all paid off.”

This time, Bucky couldn’t hide the blush. He could feel it spreading over his neck so he cleared his throat and turned away. 

He reached up into a cabinet and hissed as it pulled at the knot in his left shoulder, the one that had been bothering him for days. Not even the hot soaks had managed to ease the strain of the shoulder completely. Maybe he should ask Clint for some pointers. He was bound to know some stretches that could help, being as he had the best shoulders on the team. 

“Worse?” Clint asked, stepping up beside him and pulling down two mugs. Bucky nodded. Clint turned, leaning against the counter, one elbow leaned back on it, one mug dangling precariously from his fingers, the other held out towards Bucky.. “I could… maybe… try something? If you were ready for it?”

Bucky looked at Clint, eyes going wide at the thought that Clint was offering to touch him, and shakily nodded. Clint twisted in place and urged Bucky to turn too, so he wouldn’t be trapped against the counter and that, Clint’s thoughtfulness, eased something in him.

“I’ll stop the second you tell me to, allright?” Clint said softly. Bucky nodded again, a short jerk, and then Clint’s hands were on his shoulders. The touch was light to start with - testing the waters, Bucky thought. When he made no move to pull away, Clint pressed down a little harder, his thumbs began to circle, his fingers to dig and -

Oh god -

That felt -

Bucky groaned and his head fell forward. 

Clint chuckled lightly behind him. “That good, huh?”

Bucky didn’t bother even  _ trying  _ to reply, just let his eyes close shut and enjoy Clint’s hands working magic along his muscles. It went on for almost five minutes - five whole  _ glorious  _ minutes - before his shoulder blades had that familiar itch to it, his stomach that familiar twist. His brain started screaming at him and Bucky was moving before he knew it, pushing away from Clint and spinning to face him, breathing hard again.

Clint raised his hands up, took a step back.

“Jesus,” Bucky choked, “I’m sorry. I can’t -”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You’re good, man,” Clint said. His voice held no judgement. “You did good. How do your shoulders feel?”

Bucky rolled them. Then blinked. “Uh, good. Better.” And they did. Jesus, if this was how good they felt after 5 minutes with Clint’s magic fingers, how much better would his shoulders feel if Clint had been able to keep going?

“Glad to hear it.” Clint turned away, back to their abandoned mugs and set about the well known ritual. Bucky wasn’t sure how Clint could drink coffee at all hours of the night, but Bucky often joined him, knowing the coffee wasn’t going to keep him awake anyway, so it didn’t matter if he was drinking it too.

It was strange and liberating having had Clint touching him. Other than doctors, other than Stark tinkering with his arm, other than  _ Steve _ , Bucky hadn’t had anything like it since he’d come back from HYDRA. It was…

It was…

Fuck, he wanted more of it. If he’d had any thoughts that a brief touch here and there could cure his need, Bucky would have been dead wrong. If anything, it made the craving he’d been having  _ worse. _

So, he hovered, looking for an opportunity, a moment when his mind and body would line up and _ let  _ him have what he wanted when it presented itself to him.

And the others noticed. 

Sam started patting his shoulder on the way past Bucky if he was nearby. When Bucky graduated himself to the couch - not touching, but close enough to feel body heat - Bruce would read to him and Nat’s toes would nudge his thighs. Tony started to ruffle his hair, making Bucky scowl, even as he secretly loved it.

Steve, the fucker, beamed.

There were still days even those little things were too much and he’d twist out of reach or hide in his rooms, but nobody ever made a big deal out of it and Bucky appreciated that.

He hadn’t graduated to Tonys draping or Rhodey’s cuddles, hadn’t even been able to make himself seek out one of Clint’s hugs, though he desperately wanted one, but he was making progress.

He was starting to feel… Bucky frowned, uncertain how to put it into words, even in the privacy of his own mind. Maybe, like, his skin was his own again? Despite that some of it wasn’t skin anymore.

Things continued to progress, slowly but surely, till he was massaging Natasha’s feet and receiving his own head scratches. He looked forward to spending time in the common area each day, easing his way a little further into the normal workings of the tower and seeing the group dynamics reaching out to draw him in.

He got so used to seeing - and eventually being part of - the Avengers lounging around in the common area when there wasn't a call out, that their sudden absence was severely felt.

Bucky’s shoulders tightened the longer he spent there without sign of anyone else other than Sam. Sam shrugged when Bucky gave him a questioning look.

“Don’t know either.”

A flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder and then Thor was striding in. “Am I too late?”

Bucky and Sam exchanged confused looks. How did the God of Thunder know what was going on when neither of them did? He hadn't even been around!

“Too late for what?” Sam asked , Bucky waiting to hear the answer, his own voice lost to uncertainty. Steve hadn’t mentioned anything to him either, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Is it not the eve of the anniversary of that first great battle in this very city? The one that formed the Avengers?” Thor asked.

“You mean, the Battle of New York. The Chitauri invasion?” Sam asked slowly.

“The very one!” Thor boomed.

“Well, shit…” Sam muttered. “I didn’t even notice.”

Bucky could feel his face scrunching up as he thought about it. What did he know about that battle? Thor was right, it was formative - literally. Even Bucky had heard of it, trapped as he’d been, a mindless thing.  HYDRA had seen the formation of the Avengers as a threat - and they’d been right.

He frowned. He felt like there was something more about it that he should know,  though, something that tickled at the edge of his memories. He looked at Sam who seemed to cotton on to what he needed.

“Hey J, you got any footage about the battle we can watch?”

“I do indeed,” JARVIS replied, one of the walls flickering to life - Bucky was never going to get over how cool  _ that  _ was. 

“JARVIS, what greatness has Tony planned for this anniversary?” Thor asked.

“I’m afraid that nothing has been planned, to my knowledge.”

Bucky caught Thor frowning at the words. “Whyever not? It was a battle well fought, and caused us to become a team, a family, something I am most grateful for. I only wish I were able to be here more often, but my duties as a son of Asgard are many. And I have missed too many of these anniversaries already.”

“Just a thought,” Sam said, heading for the couch, Bucky trailing after him. “And I wasn't there, but this team has a lot of PTSD they try to bury. I don’t know if this is something they’d be celebrating. It’s certainly nothing they’ve talked about in all the time I've been here. They might have some mixed feelings about it.”

Bucky slid onto the couch, wedging himself into the corner of it, Sam sitting in the opposite corner, but sprawling out easily. Thor was left to stand, looking much perplexed. Finally, he set down his hammer on the table and joined them, perching on one of the softer chairs. Together, the three of them watched spliced together footage - from both Iron Man’s suit and shaky phone cameras - while Thor enthusiastically narrated.

The more Bucky watched, the more familiar it all felt, till he was almost shaking.

“Hey,” Sam asked quietly, as Thor continued on. Sam’s foot touched Bucky’s ankle. “You okay? Want us to turn it off? I mean, they  _ are  _ some real ugly motherfuckers.”

Shaking his head, Bucky slumped down a little. “I think… I think I was there. Not in the thick of it, but I was doing what Clint was doing.”

“Huh, doesn’t surprise me. You  _ were  _ a sniper, and HYDRA couldn’t have been too happy with the idea of the Chitauri coming in and messing up their plans,” Sam said easily, as if that was it, nothing big.  “If you were already in the area, it didn’t hurt them any to have you aid where you could.”

But it was.  A big deal, that is. He’d been there, so close to Steve and the others, and hadn’t even known. But he’d been helping. That felt like something. Even if it was for HYDRA’s own gain, he’d been able to assist the  _ good  _ guys for once, and  _ know  _ it was for good, even if it was only in retrospect.

That felt good, actually, however unknowingly it had been, having Steve’s - and the others - backs.

But he was certain that Sam was right. That the rest of the team _were_ hiding, because of this. He was also certain that the footage and Thor’s tale were both leaving out critical things.

Eventually the footage ended and Thor left for his own rooms, looking a little sad and leaving Sam and Bucky once more alone. They ate, quietly, as Bucky soaked in what he’d seen, compared it to his own hazy memories he had of the event and Sam drifted off to do something else.

And then Bucky was  _ alone  _ alone, in the common area of the tower. Something that had not happened outside of an Avenger call out in  _ ages.  _ Even when he lurked out here in the middle of the night, driven from his bed by nightmares and bad memories, there was usually someone already out here, suffering similar issues. Or if there weren’t, Bucky didn’t often have long to wait till there was.

It was eerie.

And too quiet.

It let him get trapped too much in his own head and he didn’t like that.

Bucky retreated to his own room. At least that way, he could pretend that everything was fine while he read a few of the books JARVIS had helped him order. He had a lot of sci fi to catch up on and a lot of spare time these days.

Steve, at least, did check in with Bucky at some point, just to let him know everything was okay.

Liar.

Steve stood in the door, rubbing at the back of his neck in that way that showed he was anxious or nervous about something. Or embarrassed, but Bucky didn’t think that applied this time. “Sorry to leave you alone today Buck, but uh, Tony’s been a little  _ extra  _ today. You know how he gets.”

“Uh huh,” Bucky said slowly. “And this has nothing to do with it being the anniversary of Tony almost dying at the hands of our own government?”

Steve froze. “You know about that?”

“Honestly, it’s the only concrete thing I know for why all of you are hiding today. I feel like i’m missin’ something,” Bucky said. “Thor wants a party, I just… want to help, but I got no idea how. If it’s stayin’ out of everyone’s way, I guess that’s what I’ll do.”

Sighing, Steve stepped further into Bucky’s room and sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped. “You’re… yeah, you’re missing a lot. Stuff that I can’t tell you. Sorry, Buck,” Steve finished, with an apologetic smile.

“Classified?” Bucky asked in a little bit of disbelief. He could feel his eyebrows going up into his hair. “There were aliens and gods and superheroes, but there’s something about that battle that’s  _ classified?” _

“Well,  _ technically, _ yes,” Steve said slowly, watching his words and very deliberately not looking Bucky in the eyes and that, more than anything, made a chill of foreboding run down Bucky’s spine. “But it was more to protect one of us than anything else and because of that, it’s not my place to tell you what else happened.”

Steve looked up suddenly. “For what it’s worth… I think you  _ should  _ know. You’d have a… a unique perspective that could help where I could not.”

And that’s when Bucky could see the helplessness in Steve's eyes. Dammit. Punk always wanted to help people, and if someone on his team was hurting and Steve couldn’t do shit about it, then it was gonna tear the punk up inside.

But what the hell was Steve going on about? What kind of perspective could Bucky - in particular - possibly have that would help any… one… out…

Fuck.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Bucky asked, his voice going hoarse.

Steve’s eyes went wide with fake innocence Bucky had long since learned to see through.

Twice.

“‘Bout what, Buck? I didn’t say nothin’,” Steve answered, pushing off the bed. “I’ll probably see you day after tomorrow, ‘less you need something?”

“Shove off, punk. I’ll be fine,” Bucky grumbled at him absently, his mind still reeling, still trying to piece a few things together, wondering if he even had enough pieces to start the puzzle properly.

“If you’re sure?” Steve hesitated.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Go make sure Stark doesn’t do anything stupid. I know that’s asking a lot of you, the two of you feed off each other, I swear,” Bucky joked, trying to lighten the mood. It worked, Steve rolling his eyes before giving Bucky a quick hug and leaving.

Bucky sighed after Steve left, staring down at his book. Bucky knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on it any further, so he slid off the bed, shoved his feet into a pair of slippers and slipped out of his room, heading back to the common area.

He set about making hot cocoa, his brain still churning. Six original Avengers: Thor, Natasha, Clint, Steve, Tony and Bruce.

Whatever happened, it hadn’t been Steve. Punk woulda just come right out and said it. Thor didn’t seem to be harboring any issues, if his disappointment about the lack of party was anything to go by. So. Two down, four to go. Bucky couldn’t be sure, but he had a feeling it wasn’t Tony. 

Down to three. Bruce, Nat and Clint. 

Bruce himself shuffled into the kitchen, despite everyone having their own. He yawned, long and wide and Bucky put the water back on for him. Bruce flashed him a tired smile but didn’t speak until the two had settled in on the couch with their mugs.

“Where is everyone?” Bruce asked.

Bucky blinked. “You don’t know?”

“Know what -  _ ooooh.” _ Bruce nodded. “I wasn’t paying attention to the calendar. To be honest, I rarely do these days.”

“Yeah, everyone’s hiding. Thought you were too, till you came out here,” Bucky noted, watching Bruce carefully, thankful he hadn’t pulled his hair up today and that it was hiding him from Bruce.

“No real reason to. I was up late in the lab last night, though. Keeping busy while the others are away?”

So, not Bruce. Four down, Clint and Natasha to go. And where one was, the other went. 

Bucky shrugged. “Catching up on some reading.” Bruce nodded and soon enough they were embroiled in a discussion about Edgar Rice Burroughs and Bucky found the problem pushed from his mind for a bit.

It returned later, of course, as he lay awake, his mind still preoccupied with the puzzle of the Avenger who might have been mindcontrolled.

Could have been Nat  _ or  _ Clint, he supposed. But the more he thought about it, the more he thought about Nat’s past and the way she’d been raised, the more Bucky thought maybe it  _ wasn’t  _ her. Though unpleasant, it was something Natasha had already gone through. 

Which left Clint. Cause it _had_ to be Clint, someone who would have taken it like a blow, would internalize everything he’d done to punish himself, no matter what anyone told him.

A little like Bucky, in fact, contrary without meaning to be,  convinced of his own worthlessness. Clint hid it, and he hid it well, but Bucky saw glimpses in Clint’s eyes that were far, far too familiar. And it made him ache.

The team came out of hiding the next day, but they were much subdued. They came out, handsier than ever.

Except Clint, who shied away from every touch in a way that Bucky had  _ never  _ seen.

He watched, wondering what he could do. The team let him be, surely having learned from experience that Clint was to be left alone in these moods. But Bucky could see a yearning in Clint’s eyes that mirrored his own most days.

As everyone else settled into an Avenger pile on the couch, Bucky edged a little closer to Clint, looking at him hopefully. 

“What’s up, Bucky?” Clint asked, from his perch on the countertop. Bucky shrugged, wondering how to approach this.

“Missed you all yesterday.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Clint looked away. “Wasn’t much company yesterday. You wouldn't have wanted me around.”

“I… kinda always do,” Bucky said, blushing and looking away. “I was… I was maybe wondering if uh,” he paused, peeking up at Clint through his hair. Clint probably couldn’t see that, but it gave Bucky a fairly good view of the lost and wondering look on Clint’s face. “If-I-could-have-a-hug?” Bucky rushed out.

“What?” Clint asked, startled. 

Bucky’s shoulders hunched in. “Everyone swears by your hugs, and I’ve been… I could really use one. And I think I'm ready for it, if you are?”

No, shit, this was a bad idea. If Clint wasn’t up for touching anyone on the team, why would he be okay with giving Bucky a hug?

He started to back away. “Sorry, I-” his voice choked off, because he was really looking forward to the hug, all of a sudden, and he’d pushed. Everyone had respected his space and needs and now he’d pushed Clint - 

Clint slid off the countertop and moved toward Bucky slowly. “Hey, you can ask for a hug, it’s okay,” he said. “I was surprised, is all.”

Bucky shook his head. “I shouldn’t have asked. If you’re not up for it - “

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“Because you won’t go near anyone else,” Bucky said. “You’re always… but today you’re not…” Bucky knew he wasn’t doing a very good job of explaining, but Clint looked like he got it anyway.

“But you asked anyway,” Clint said softly, tilting his head to look at Bucky curiously.

“You looked like you could use one,” Bucky finally answered, looking away, feeling ashamed of having pushed when he should have known better. “You make everyone feel better, you make  _ me  _ feel better all the time and I wanted to do that for you.”

“Oh, Bucky…” Clint’s voice cracked and before Bucky could look back at him, strong hands had wrapped around him. Startled, Bucky tensed briefly before melting into the hug, his own arms coming up tentatively to hold Clint. Clint was warm, and comfortable and Bucky hoped he felt the same way to Clint.

And then Clint’s arms tightened around Bucky lifting him slightly, and the bones in Bucky’s back cracked wonderfully and he slumped into Clint with a happy little moan. 

“Oh, _ Jesus _ ,” Bucky muttered reverently. “Now I know what everyone’s always talking about.”

A startled, slightly wet laugh echoed in his ear and he pulled away finally to look at Clint. 

“Is  _ that  _ why everyone likes my hugs better than Steve’s?” Clint asked.

“Shit, are you… crying?” Bucky asked in alarm. Emboldened by the recent hug, his hands reached out and brushed at Clint’s cheek with one hand, coming away wet.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s a good cry. You were right, I needed that.” Clint grinned. “Apparently, so did you!”

Bucky blushed but oddly, didn’t feel ready to pull away, and since Clint didn’t, he didn’t. Clint tugged a little and Bucky relaxed back into the hug. Unable to see Clint’s face, it was a little easier to talk.

“I could see you wanted it, so why were you holding yourself back?” Bucky asked.

Clint’s hands rubbed up and down Bucky’s back, digging in a little in places Bucky hadn’t even realized held knots until Clint started working on them.

“Didn’t think I deserved it, I guess,” Clint said with a sigh. Bucky made a noise of protest “I know, i know. I’m a hypocrite. I’ve been working on it a long time. Mostly i’m good, these days. But… certain…  _ days  _ hit me harder than others.”

“The Battle of New York,” Bucky said. Clint stiffened.

“You know about that?” Clint’s voice was a little hoarse now.

Bucky shook his head. “Not enough. Enough to know something bad happened no one will talk about. Aside from, y’know, the whole actual invasion bit and Tony almost dying bit.” Clint’s arms slackened and Bucky - reluctantly - let go and backed up a step, taking in his tense posture. “Steve wouldn’t tell me  _ any _ thing, just gave me those puppy dog eyes of his. So whatever it is you’re worried I know, I probably don’t.”

Clint nodded, raked a hand through his hair and nodded again, looking past Bucky. The rest of the team hadn’t seemed to notice their little one on one in the kitchen and that was good. They didn’t need more tension, but who knew how much longer that would last?

It seemed Clint came to the same conclusion because he jerked his head towards the door and raised an eyebrow. Bucky nodded, following Clint out of the common area. 

“My place or yours? Just so’s we can have some privacy while we talk. I could… massage your shoulders for you at the same time?”

The offer, Bucky realized, was more for Clint than for him, a way to keep Clint’s mind off whatever decision he’d made and… and Bucky found that he was okay with it. He’d been getting better at exchanging touches, and Clint’s in particular had always been especially welcome. 

He was also good at pushing through anything and dealing with any crises that brought up later if it was for someone he cared about. He could do this. 

But…

“Mine,” he said. Because he needed at least that much. Clint nodded, going along with that easily enough and they took the elevator in a silence of knocking elbows and leaning bodies, the air heavy with expectations but not overly uncomfortable.

Bucky’s floor was still pretty sparsely put together. It had the furniture Tony had provided, a few plants he could lavish care on, some of Steve’s drawings scattered about here and there and a  _ lot  _ of books. Clint looked around.

“Wow, you really love books, huh? I mean, i knew that, you almost always seem to have one in hand, but wow…”

Bucky ducked his head a little. “Tony keeps telling me he can get me every book I could ever want digitally, but there’s something about holding it in my hands that’s just… it feels good, grounding.”

Clint nodded. “Yeah, I get that. So uh, how do you wanna do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You want a good shoulder and back massage, I'm gonna need you to lay down. The options are bed, couch and floor. What’s the most comfortable for you?”

“Oh, I… I hadn’t thought of that,” Bucky admitted, looking around a little wild eyed. The couch was comfy enough, usually, but he didn’t think it would work very well for a massage and the floor was too hard and the bed too private.

Clint seemed to understand the conundrum instantly. “Look, grab blankets and pillows and we’ll set up on the floor out here, make it comfy.”

“Yeah, that… that’ll work,” Bucky said, relieved at the alternative Clint provided. He rushed to gather the blankets and pillows, suddenly feeling like he was a child again, trying to build a blanket fort. Together they padded the floor down and rearranged everything till it was just right. He hesitated, wondering if he should take his shirt off before laying down then decided no. He was already doing a lot and that, Bucky thought, might be a touch too far.

Clint carefully straddled Bucky but before he could panic, Clint’s fingers worked like magic over his back and Bucky became a puddle on the floor.

Literally.

It was a good few minutes before Clint started talking, and Bucky was so relaxed he almost missed it.

“You’re right, about there being more to it than what’s publicly known,” Clint said softly. He cleared his throat. “So uh… long story short. The invasion was pretty much my fault.”

Bucky blinked. “How?” he asked incredulously. He didn’t think anyone on the planet - not even Tony, smart as he was - had the technology to open a wormhole into space.

“Combination of the Tesseract, a God and some good old human ingenuity,” Clint said. “The Tesseract itself kind of… showed the way. And then a few of us made it happen.”

Bucky thought about that. As a species, humans were incorrigably curious. He glanced over at the shelves filled with scifi. “I mean, new technology isn’t inherently wrong…” he started.

Clint chuckled but it was a dead chuckle that made Bucky’s skin crawl.

“Oh, no, it’s not as accidental as you’re thinking, but thanks.” clint shifted above him, his fingers digging into Bucky’s shoulders with a little more weight. He groaned, grateful it was muffled by his arms. “We knew what was going to happen - the others, Selvig and I - and we did it anyway. Because we were told to. Thor’s brother - “ Clint’s fingers faltered and so did he, and Bucky waited silently, patiently knowing not to push. 

“Loki came here with the intent of bringing the Chitauri army after him, and he used us to do it. He took our minds with magic -” Clint shook his head above bucky, making his body rock a little, but he moved his hands along bucky's shoulders and down his spine again, pressing harder and harder with every word, his voice growing harsh and broken. “No, that’s not right. He  _ needed  _ our minds, so he took our will and subsumed it, made it  _ his _ . And then I advised Loki how to proceed, I made the plans, and told him where the weak links were.  _ It was all me _ .”

“I got the things they needed, Selvig made it work and then I almost took out the Helicarrier and everyone on it - people I worked with for  _ years _ , that I called friends, including Nat. Phil died, and that’s on me. And Steve, Tony, Thor, Bruce - they were all there too. And I did it without the slightest fucking qualm, all because Loki wanted me to.” 

Bucky stopped breathing.

He’d been right. It had been Clint. And it had been so much worse than he’d thought. At least Bucky couldn’t remember most of the things he’d done as the Fist of HYDRA.

The things Clint had done, he not only would remember every bit of it, he’d orchestrated it. Above him, Clint’s hands had stopped, but were gripping on Bucky hard, and his breathing harsh.

“I didn’t even fight it,” Clint broke out in a whisper and then his body shook, reverberating through Bucky’s.

Twisting himself around, Bucky sat up and caught Clint in a hug before the other man could scramble up and away. He wrapped himself tightly around Clint as he shook in Bucky’s arms, cried into his shoulder.

“That’s why I can't, especially so close to the - the anniversary,” Clint choked, took a breath and continued. “I can’t let myself seek comfort from them, when I knowingly tried to kill them all. I know it’s not my fault… I know none of them blame  _ me.  _ And… and I’m better than I was, I swear. But I can still see Nat in my mind, in my dreams, fighting for her life against me and how ruthless I was. It’s hard, and these few days are harder than all the rest combined.”

It was Bucky’s turn to run a hand up and down Clint’s back, though it was more of a soothing motion - and he couldn't say if it was more soothing for him or for Clint - than working on Clint’s muscles the way Clint had done him.

“No wonder you always seem to understand me better than I understand myself, better even then Stevie does, sometimes,” Bucky said. “You’ve been where I've been, walked in my shoes. You  _ get  _ me.”

Clint shuddered again.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said. Clint’s fingers tightened their grip in Bucky’s shirt, pulling it taut against his back.

“What the fuck do you have to be sorry for?” Clint asked gruffly, finally pulling back enough to look Bucky in the face.

“That you had to go through that. No one deserves it, and the rest of the team knows it as well as you and I. But you give me hope. For the future.”

“How the fuck do I do that? I just broke down in your fucking arms and cried like a baby.”

“Sure, and everyones going to have bad days. Figure you got a pretty good excuse for it. But the rest of the time? Clint, you’re the soul of this team. You keep everyone together, keep everyone's spirits up. I don’t think you realize how much this team looks to  _ you  _ for comfort. I’ve been watching - “

“God,” Clint chuckled suddenly, sounding all stuffed up. “Do you know how fucking creepy that sounds?”

Bucky would worry about that, except Clint is smiling and doesn’t seem to actually care, so he pushes that worry aside for later.

“Stop putting on a show and maybe I’ll stop watching,” he teases instead and that does the trick, the laugh turning real, genuine and deep, shaking Bucky’s body more than the crying had. 

“What was it that got you - the Yoga?”

Bucky blushed and Clint laughed harder, his hands shifting to rest along Bucky’s shoulders as he dropped his head into Bucky’s with a soft thud.

“Okay, confession time - I knew you were watching and, uh, I liked it,” Clint said, tucking some of Bucky’s hair out of the way, their faces so close to each other that Bucky was almost going cross eyed looking up into Clint’s eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Clint said softly. 

There was a moment there where Bucky was sure they would kiss and his heart began to pound. If this had been the old him, he absolutely would have taken the chance, here in the privacy of his own space. No one would know, no one would judge him. And nowadays, nobody would care.

But the moment was a little too much and then it had passed and gone and Bucky thought he might have imagined it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Clint said, continuing to speak softly. A hand threaded into Bucky’s hair and scratched at his scalp and oh, that felt gooooood… “Don’t push yourself. You’re doing good and we’re all here for you. All rooting for you.”

Bucky shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips that he was sure would betray the awe he felt towards Clint. How’d he go from comforting Clint to being comforted  _ by  _ Clint?

“God, do you know how fucking special you are, sweetheart?” The words slipped out of Bucky’s mouth unbidden and he blushed hot and hard at the endearment.

Clint stared at him with wonder and something soft in his eyes. ‘“I didn’t used to, but fuck, you guys make me believe it.”

Bucky wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, in each other’s arms, Clint in his lap, slightly towering over Bucky, their heads touching and eyes just staring, sweet sappy smiles on both their faces. Well, he assumed his face, it felt like his heart wanted to burst.

But then JARVIS interrupted, breaking the moment. “Pardon me, but Sir has asked me to tell you that they’re ordering pizza for dinner, if you would like to partake.”

Without taking his eyes off Bucky, Clint called out, “Sure, J. Tell them we’re on our way.”

He stood, then reached down to pull Bucky to his feet. “How’re your shoulders?”

Bucky rolled them. “Good,” he said, surprised. “ _ Real  _ good, actually.”

“Yeah?” Clint said, a pleased smile on his face. “I’ll have to do that for you more often then.”

“I wouldn't mind that,” Bucky said, finding that, he really didn’t. He still had his boundaries, and he was sure he’d have his days too, but overall, the idea of touching and being touched in return didn’t fill him with conflicting emotions as it used. 

And the idea of it being Clint… well, Bucky found he not only didn’t mind, but was really, _ really  _ looking forward to it.

Maybe one day, Bucky would actually kiss him, too. He had a feeling Clint wouldn’t mind.

Clint’s fingers tangled with his as he drew Bucky out to the elevator to meet the others for dinner and Bucky followed along, helplessly pulled in by Clint’s  _ everything.  _ Clint smiled, and though his eyes were a little red and puffy, they were happy and it took Bucky’s breath away.

Yeah, he was  _ sure _ of it.


End file.
